Spectrum
by Ninazadzia
Summary: The four times Cato and Clove held hands, and the one time they didn't. Inspired by Florence the Machine's "Spectrum." Written for Rachel for the June GGE.


**A/N: This is an INEXCUSABLY late GGE fic for the month of June, written for the lovely supernovas (aka Rachel). Hope you enjoy, doll!**

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**Spectrum**

By Ninazadzia

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_Fear._

At this moment, it's an incredibly palpable sensation. My racing heart and tearing eyes and heaving chest all scream the same thing, and it's,_ I'm afraid, I'm afraid_. But I'm the hunter, not the hunted. I'm the one who's going to win this thing. So, with that in mind, I straighten my back. I take three deep breaths. I look to my left, to my right, to the dead tribute in front of me. I nudge his chest (District Nine) with my big toe. Some of his blood comes off on my boot.

"I think we're all clear."

The voice calls out with unmistakable clarity. I don't have to look up to know who it belongs to. He's the same boy I've spent most of my life training with.

I hear his approaching footsteps. He looms over District Nine, and pokes at him with his sword. More blood seeps out.

"I stuck his back," I say. I blow my hair out of my face. "I was going for Twelve, but she got away." I huffily set my bag down—the one I collected not long after offing Nine—and rummage through my belongings. Some dried fruit, canned beans, protein bars, etcetera. I look up at Cato. "We should eat first. Make camp, get organized. We'll hunt later tonight, when they don't want us to."

"We'll pick 'em out by their snoring," he sneers.

I laugh.

He reaches out a hand, offering to help me up. I'd normally refuse, but Glimmer and Marvel aren't looking. So I take it, and meet his gaze for an instant. Only an instant. I drop it after that, and look around me. Half a dozen dead tributes lie before me. More are probably dead in the woods.

No, I don't feel so afraid anymore.

* * *

_Screams._

Loud, pained, unmistakable shrieks. Most come from my right, and are high-pitched and female. They could only belong to Glimmer. I don't look back to watch what happens to her, I don't turn around, I don't _think _about the others in this moment. In fact, I don't think much of anything. My legs seem to move on instinct, guiding me out of the swarm and _away_ from the tree, away from Twelve, away from the _mess_ she's caused—

And then I feel it. I feel the stings. I feel the overgrown wasps descend upon me, and the consequential _fire_ that shoots up through my veins.

I think back to what Brutus and Enobaria had said about me, during my training evaluation last year. "Clove is strong because she embraces pain. Correct—she's crazy because she craves it."

So even as I psychologically hallucinate and my body wastes away, I somehow trudge forward. I try to ignore the images before me—images of exploding trees, overgrown rabbits, and acid showering down on me. _To the lake, to the lake,_ I keep reminding myself. I repeat it until it becomes a prayer.

And then I feel it. I feel someone's distinct, hot breath on my neck. I don't even have to turn to know whose it is. I recognize his panting almost immediately.

His pace is zigzagging, and his body is failing. Mine is too. So without hesitation, I reach out and grab his arm. He clutches onto me, and before long we're clutching onto each other, desperately clawing our way through the woods and towards the lake.

We collapse onto the sandy ground. He drops his sword, which I only then noticed was covered in blood. Marvel comes out of the woods moments after us, and his screams ring through my ears. Cato turns to look at me. I shriek, because his eyes are suddenly _not_ his eyes, but rather black holes in his skull. I shriek and I bang my fists against the ground, and he keeps _trying_ to reassure me, but he gets nowhere because _Cato doesn't have eyes anymore, and it's not reassuring_.

Time passes. We drift to sleep. When I awake, I still feel fire in my veins. But now it's quiet, and the ringing in my ears has stopped, and my district partner is quietly sleeping next to me.

His eyes are shut. Even though it's irrational, I'm momentarily overtaken by the image I saw earlier. That his eyes have been gouged out of his head.

I give him a soft shove. "Cato," I say.

He rolls to face me, but doesn't exactly awake.

_"Cato,"_ I say, louder this time.

"What?"

He blinks twice. Through the squint of his eyelids, I see them. I see the same crystal blue irises that I've known for my entire life.

"Nothing," I mutter. I rest my head onto the ground, and let myself drift back to sleep next to him.

I don't feel so afraid anymore.

* * *

_Elation._

This day, I do nothing except go through the motions. Find water, make myself a meal, bathe, sleep, repeat. No hunting. No killing. I'm just taking care of myself, trying to distract myself from the truth.

_There's only six of us left._

As I wash the dirt away from my hands, I try not to think of Cato. I try not to think of the look on his face when we broke our alliance. I try not to think of the fact that I didn't say a word in reply, that I only gave him a curt nod before backing out of the cornucopia and into the woods.

But, alas, my brain doesn't work that way. So, I think of it. And it takes every ounce of willpower I have to suppress the lump in my throat.

_It could come down to you two. You know it could._

I try not to think about that either. And then I hear the announcement. I stop a listen, and I try to let the words process. But I can't. _They can't be serious,_ I find myself thinking. My heart starts to race, because the Capitol is granting permission for there to be _two _Victors from the same district, and it's just too good to be true. _No. They would never do that. It can't be._

After the announcement ends, I wait. I wait to Claudius' voice again, and to hear him say, _just a minute, never mind, that was a mistake. _But I don't. So slowly, the words begin to sink in, and the reality comes to the forefront of my mind.

Cato and I could go home together.

_"Clove! Clove?"_

I hear it off from a distance. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

So I call out of him. I don't hesitate. I take off sprinting in his direction, thrashing through the woods, not stopping until I see him immense figure pummel through the forest.

I don't suppress the grin as it stretches across my face. I don't stop myself from running right into his arms, from pressing my face into his massive chest, and from letting myself enjoy the feeling of his body against mine. And we just kind of stand there for a minute, locked in this embrace, not caring to move anytime soon.

I don't feel so afraid anymore.

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_Peace._

There's nothing more peaceful than the sound of death. It's strange, but in the last few moments of my life, I know it to be true. The first thing I feel is pain, of course, but it's quickly overshadowed by a quiet calmness. It's almost as if I'm sinking myself into a warm bath.

I feel Cato's presence as he nears me. Instead of trying to drown out the sounds of his sobs or the sounds of him begging me to hold on, I welcome it. Because for the first time in my life, I feel like I deserve it. I deserve to be cared about. I deserve to be mourned.

I deserve to be loved, and it's because it's _him._

"Clove, please, stay with me, fight through this." His voice breaks. His hand is wrapped around mine, and he's squeezing me so tight that I'm sure my fingers will lose circulation. "Don't you _dare _die on me, not after everything. Don't leave me. Clove, c'mon, I'm begging you . . ."

There's something about hearing the way he says my name, in those final moments . . . well, it's as heartbreaking as it is reassuring. It means that I don't need to be afraid anymore. It means that even though I've failed my life's mission, I've succeeded in another. It isn't the one I want, granted—but maybe it's the one I need.

I deserve to be loved by him. Because after all of this time, I realize that he's been loved by me.

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_Fate._

I don't believe in God, or heaven. There is no afterlife. We're born and then we die, and that's the truth.

But in those fading moments of my life, just before my brain fails completely, I see a crisp image before me. It's as vivid as an image can be. It's an image of Cato as he sleeps next to me, except this time we're in our own bed, in our own little slice of paradise.

He awakes. His eyes flutter open, and I see those blue irises one last time. And then he plants a gentle kiss on my lips, and I know.

I know that I'll never need to be afraid again.

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_**Say my name**_

_**And every color illuminates**_

_**We are shining**_

_**And we will never be afraid again**_

~Spectrum by Florence + the Machine

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**A/N: FINALLY, an homage to my all-time favorite Florence song. I've literally meant to write a one-shot inspired by **_**Spectrum **_**for quite some time now, but nothing I came up with every seemed to fit right, you know? This one-shot has probably been in the works for close to a year now, so I'm glad that it's finally seeing the light of day.**

**Anyway, let me know what you thought of this fic! I'm sorry for being MIA from the HG fandom these last few months, I know that it's been a while—I've recently gotten re-inspired, and I'm thinking of posting some more Clato one-shots in the near future. (Particularly a "first time" Clato fanfic, yayayayay sex!)**

**I hope you all are having an amazing summer!**

**All the best,**

**Nina**


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